Dare You to Move
by Tivaau
Summary: Song-fic. Tony & Ziva one-shot. "No matter how many times you experience it, it never gets any easier. You never become immune to the immense sadness felt when a person dies." No, neither character dies! 'T' for graphic content Violence/death .


**A/N: **Yes, I am still working on my other fic: 'The Hole in the Heart', but I wanted a break from it because I have been stuck on one scene for hours. Any way, here is a one-shot song-fic. I tried to make the story fit the song, but I don't know how well I went with that task.

The song is 'Dare You to Move' by Switchfoot. Enjoy!

**Dare You to Move**

_Welcome to the planet,_

_Welcome to existence,_

_Everyone's here,_

_Everyone's here._

No matter how many times you experience it, it never gets any easier. You never become immune to the immense sadness felt when a person dies. A life, just like yours, filled with many aspirations for happiness, success, and _love _ends. And this time it ends because of you. But you try and shrug it off. You try and think of it logically; if you didn't take their life, many others would be lost in its place. You had to do it. You could not risk the all too familiar feelings of regret and embarrassment, their overwhelming powers that hang over you like a shadow, each and every day for the rest of your life. So you did it. Just one small twitch of your finger and it was done.

_Everybody's watching you now,_

_Everybody waits for you now,_

_What happens next?_

_What happens next?_

All you had to do was pull the trigger. The bullet did the rest. It tore through the soft, defenceless layer of skin covering their chest. It ripped straight through their pectoralis major, shattering their sternum and ribs. It reached their heart, forcing it to explode as the bullet and shrapnel applied monstrous amounts of pressure to the small, now unprotected heap of muscle.

Just one small contraction of a finger ended their life. And you were at fault.

But it was over now. Ziva David could finally accept the reality of her actions, or at least try to. She had killed a boy, not a day over seventeen. A boy who ended many lives, but not for the same reasons that she had for him. The people that he killed were not a threat to others, they were his family. They were not murdering innocent people out of a distorted view of reality; they were merely trying to save him from himself. He had snuck into his parent's room one night after he stopped taking his medication and stabbed them as they slept. He heard his younger sister calling NCIS, so he left the knife on the bed and pulled out his side arm. She put the phone down and turned to him, tears streaming from her eyes. He took one look at her and squeezed the trigger. The bullet entered her skull between her eyes, passed through her head and lodged itself in the wall behind her, brain matter following in its place. He had been enlisted into the Navy all but a week ago, showing great skill and determination to succeed in his future endeavours as a Navy trained commando. Then, his girlfriend broke up with him. She didn't see them having a future if he was going to be at sea for the majority of his life. They were together for four years, and he didn't know how to deal with the thought of losing that much of his life. He spiralled out of control after the break up and stopped taking his behavioural medication. He saw the sympathy everyone offered as a threat, and out of an act of rage, he murdered his family. He couldn't tell the difference between right or wrong in this state, so when Ziva stood over his younger sister's body, aiming her pistol towards his trembling figure, she couldn't stop the thought from creeping into her head. If she didn't stop him now, she will be lying on the floor next to his sister. He was unpredictable; the dead body beneath her had reinforced that.

So she sat on the rooftop of her apartment building, dangling her feet over the edge of the cold concrete ledge. She had been there for hours, grieving over a boy that would have killed her if she didn't pull that trigger. Grieving over a boy who murdered three people, and if she didn't kill him, it would have been four.

"You know, it would have been a hell of a lot easier to find you had you answered your phone."

She looked over her shoulder to see Tony standing a few meters behind her, his hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of his black overcoat.

"What if I did not _want _to be found?" She met his gaze with her red rimmed mahogany orbs.

"Then say the word, and I'll go." He stared intently at her, his stance remaining dominant whilst somehow comforting.

If it was anyone else up here with her, she would have told them to leave before they'd get a chance to speak. But she couldn't do it, not to Tony. He was one of the few who knew how to handle her in these situations. He was one of the few who really _understood _her. She couldn't push him away. Ever. She had learnt that over the many years they shared together. The only way she could get rid of him would be to die, and she wasn't quite at that stage yet. And even then, she knew that she won't want to get rid of him. So for now, she let herself smile and accept the help he was offering. Because quite frankly, he had been the only person that made her _really_ happy over these past few years. Yes, there was Ray, but he didn't last. She knew they wouldn't last. A relationship with a man that secretive, especially when he worked for the CIA, was never going to end positively. But she hoped that for once in her life things would turn out well; that things would go according to the plans that she mapped out in her head. She should have gone with the rational, logical decision; end it before it turns to shit. But her emotions got the better of her; they lead her astray into a wilderness where the outcome was unpredictable. Where the only thing she knew for sure was the past herself and Ray shared, the things that had already happened between them. And a part of her enjoyed that; the surprises tomorrow would bring, and the mysteries that lay ahead of them. But this was when her MOSSAD training kicked in. 'Stay completely objective in any situation.' 'Do not get emotionally involved with any one or thing.' 'Keep to yourself and stick to the mission.' That's all she knew to do. Hope for the best, but plan for the worst. And right now, she was ready to stop hoping.

"How do you do it, Tony?"

She wiped a lonely tear from her cheek and sniffled softly. She was not afraid to show Tony her true emotions. They were partners, after all. They had shared the toughest of times together; they had carried each other through everything. They were there for each other. And as much as she didn't want to admit it aloud, she cared for him more than a partner should. She cared deeply for this man. This man that did everything in his power to get to Somalia and drag her out alive. This man who risked his life multiple times for her. This man, Anthony DiNozzo, was the man she could not bear to think of life without.

"Do what?"

"You have … killed a child, yes?"

He winced and looked down to his shoes for a moment before returning to her questioning gaze. The look of regret in his eyes was enough to answer her question.

"How did you get over it? How did you stop it from affecting everything you do?" Her tone sounding desperate, a sort of plead.

He didn't answer. He just stood there, watching as she searched his eyes for an answer, an indication of what he might say. Instead, he took his hands from his pockets and calmly strode towards her. He stood behind her right shoulder, looking down on her as her wide eyes shone back at him. He offered his hand to her.

_I dare you to move,_

_I dare you to move,_

_I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor._

"You've just got to get off the floor. Whether you need help or not, it doesn't matter. Accepting help doesn't make you any weaker. As long as you can stand up and keep going- that's all that counts."

She took his warm hand, his lightly calloused fingers wrapping around hers. She felt herself becoming stronger as he pulled her up from the ledge. His free hand went to her waist to steady her as she teetered backwards, loosing her balance.

"Any how do you keep going?"

He took a step backwards, pulling her with him. Her other hand landed on his chest for support.

_I dare you to move,_

_I dare you to move,_

_Like today never happened,_

_Today never happened before._

"You live as if that day never happened." He brushed the loose, brown curl that hung over her cheek behind her ear and smiled softly at her. She smiled sweetly back at him, their faces mere inches apart.

"Today never happened." Her voice sounded fragile.

"Today never happened." He repeated the statement back at her, reinforcing its truthfulness.

She looked into his gracefully green eyes, and the down over his perfectly shaped lips to his stubble covered jaw. She looked up to meet his gaze once more, and what she saw in his eyes was a mixture of things. Care? Empathy? Lust?

His hand on her cheek brought her back to reality, wiping away the trail by which a tear once fell.

"You can get through this, Zi. _We _can get through this. We've just got to get up and live life like today never happened."

She reached up to her cheek and placed her noticeably smaller hand over his.

"Thank you." Her voice was barely audible, and her eyes became glassy.

Gently, he pulled her in to his body. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and laid her hands on his chest, clutching the loose fabric of his shirt between the openings of his jacket.

"Anything for you, Zi," he whispered into her ear. His low, husky voice sent shivers up her spine, and she could not resist the urge she felt to lean into him further.

She opened her eyes and examined his neck, leaning her head back to follow his jaw line to his chin. She could feel his breath on her lips, and his grip on her waist tightened. She looked up at him with wide eyes, his gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips, and then beck to her eyes. He bowed his head slightly, and she raised herself up on to her toes. His lips hovered over hers, making her breath hitch in anticipation. Slowly, he brushed his lips over hers, eliciting a moan from her. His lips met hers again, this time with more force. One of her hands crept up to his neck and grabbed at the hair on the back of his head. She pulled him right up against her and traced her tongue over his lips. He opened his mouth wider, allowing her to explore him, _taste _him.

They stumbled backwards until they hit the wall. Tony spun them so Ziva was up against the wall now, letting him take control. She was usually the one to be in control, but this, _Tony, _he was different. Being with him wasn't like being with Michael or Ray. Tony was… well, Tony. In her eyes, he was _perfect_. And right now, his being in control was _perfect. _

He pushed his hips up against her, hers thrusting back as a reflex. One of his hands trailed up and down her back whilst the other pulled their hips closer together.

"Tony…" Her voice was low and breathy as he moved to suck on her ear.

"…Ziva" The vibrations of his voice rang low in her ear, forcing another wave of shivers up her spine.

"We should… probably-"

"Stop..? Yeah." His kisses slowed, and he leant his head back enough to see her.

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, staying as they were in each other's arms.

"It's cold out here, Zi. Let's get you inside before you freeze to death." He smiled softly at her and placed a kiss on her cheek. He stepped back and took his jacket off, resting it over her shoulders.

"It is," she agreed as they walked hand-in-hand to the stair case.

**A/N: **I know the whole 'shooting a teenager who killed his family' thing is a bit over the top/unrealistic, but I couldn't think of anything else to write about at this time of night. Any way, thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated. Again, I don't really know if this song fit the fic nicely, or vice-versa, but it was the best I could do.

-Tivaau


End file.
